


And Call It Love

by thornsilver



Series: Overkill Universe One [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Original Character(s), Self-Indulgent, War is over, with friends like these, you already know if you want to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornsilver/pseuds/thornsilver
Summary: The Great War might be over, but that just brings on a new set of problems. Some of these problems are peculiar to being a Prime.





	And Call It Love

**Author's Note:**

> *Overkill is an Original Character. Recently, I found out that there is an Overkill in G1 canon. As you might notice, this is not him.
> 
> *I have taken G1, IDW, and Prime continuities and did awful things to them.

Over the millions of years he was a Prime, Optimus have learned to listen to most boring or disturbing speechifying with all appearance of interest and politeness. That did not mean that Metalhawk's endless diatribe did not stretch his patience to its limits. And quite possibly beyond. He tried not to miss his days as an army commander too badly. Peace was better than war any day, and Metalhawk spoke for an important fraction of Cybertron's slowly returning population. It did not matter how much he wanted to order the noble out of his office...

Behind him, Overkill shifted after a particularly impressive tirade, "You overstep." He wasn't sure if it was a tone of her voice, or the tone of her field, but Metalhawk suddenly remembered an appointment he was erroneously late for and disappeared so fast, Optimimus halfway expected skidmarks.

Overkill walked from behind the desk to close and lock the door to his office. (A door to his office had to be closed and locked by hand! That was almost as ridiculous as insisting that he was always accompanied by bodyguard.)

Optimus eyed the giant tankformer disapprovingly as she radiated satisfaction in front of his desk, "Was that really necessary? I think I saw *my* life flash in front of my optics." 

Overkill shrugged, "He finished imparting useful information in the first three breems and spent the rest of his monologue trying to persuade you of his own importance. And of importance of his Family, which was, of course, the only one of sufficient influence to provide you with a bondmate appropriate to your status. You do realize, they are going to keep trying, right? The security team are planning to heighten the protection of your personal quarters, because the next step is going to be trying to slip the more attractive members of their Families into your berth."

Optimus shuddered, "I know. They are all desperately trying to resurrect the old political system by making me beholden to one of the Families. Even if I was fool enough to agree to that, I would not dare to just pick one Family to bond with. It would give it too much importance, disrupt my relationship with the rest of the Neutrals, *and* make Megatron unhappy because I am bowing to what he considers unreasonable demands."

"I think he would care less about the demands being unreasonable, and more about them being steps towards the return of the old social order. I notice they are not offering noble bondmades to *him*."

"No, they are not," Optimus leaned back on his chair, "though I suspect that the main reason for that is the fact that he scares the scrap out of them, and not any caste-related concerns." 

Overkill did not look particularly impressed with his reasoning.

"Well, they are going to increase the pressure until something breaks, according to all the projections. You could always try it Nova Prime's way: he had, what, twenty-seven in his harem? I don't think that many noble Families made it through the war. You can probably keep it under ten..."

Optimus looked at her in true horror. Since Overkill's defection, she spent her time at his Clade's periphery. He knew that she had pretty close friendships with some of his commanding staff, and thought that her reluctance to interact with him was because of his rank. It would not be strange for a former Decepticon to be uneasy about dealing with a Prime. Now, Optims had a different theory: his officers deliberately kept Overkill away to prevent his processor from exploding.

"No?" She stepped forward and leaned on the desk between them, radiating amusement and mischief, "You want to know a secret?"

"I don't know. Do I?" She was smiling behind her face mask. He may be unable to see it, but he knew she was.

Overkill leaned a little bit closer and lowered her voice--the very picture of imparting a confidence, "Soundwave has been trying to feel out the Autobot opinion on a bonding between you and Megatron."

Optimus kept his jaw from dropping only with firm application of will, "He was? Why was I not notified of this... Wait. Megatron would never agree to bond someone of higher status." Which a Prime would be, in the eyes of the majority of Cybetronians. It did not matter that he himself did try to promote the idea.

"Oh," Overkill was studying claws on her left hand with a great deal of nonchalance, "I think he will find a way to live with it, if he gets to tumble his Prime in berth on a regular basis. It will even shut up the Neutrals. They will not really like it, but they will have to swallow it, if you position it as a return to the old fashioned values of Prime and Protector. They sure bleat about return to the 'enlightened ways of the ancients' enough."  
Optimus could not help but stare. And try not to feel embarrassed. Contrary to popular gossip, he and Megatron have not been lovers before the war. Megatronus has made some steps to court Orion Pax, but his attentions worried Orion, instead of flattering him. At the time.

"His.. desire to share a berth with me seems to be a slim foundation to build a governing body on." 

Overkill smirked, "Are you joking? He is obsessed with you! Everybody on both sides of this war has noticed it a long time ago. And it is not like he gives his obsessions up easily."

Optimus had to stop himself from rubbing his forehead in exasperation, "And by 'everyone' you mean?.."

"I mean, *everyone*. I think even Starscream has only been going through the motions for the last million years, and his crash can be seen from space."

"You still have not enlightened me why this was not brought to my attention.."

A Cybetronian could not actually roll his optics, but Overkill looked like she really wanted to, "Because Ratchet has thrown a tantrum about the very idea of approaching you with this. You know how he feels about Megatron. And about your self-sacrificing tendencies."

"But you.. don't."

"But I don't. And neither are your Second and Third of Command. Because none of us think you are going to be performing much of a sacrifice. Are you?" 

This time Optimus did not manage to keep his field from showcasing his embarrassment. And mild arousal, "Now who is overstepping?"

Overkill shrugged, "I am a an official member of your household. I have more rights then an outsider." 

Optimus did not know what he was going to say to that, so the radio ping from Hot Rod announcing his arrival for guard shift was very timely. Of course Overkill had the last word, as she was opening the door, "Some thoughts to recharge on, My Prime."

***

The walk from the Prime's office to the offices of the other Autobot high brass was very short. Overkill was taking it as slow as possible, with a detour to the half-restored garden that used to be pride and joy of the Primal Residence before the war. The elegant form of Decepticon beastformer materialized out of thin air as soon as Overkill was out of the direct view of front door guard detachment.

All of the reports were in agreement that Ravage did not possess either cloaking or attention diverting tech, which made her ability to appear and disappear at will magic from Overkill's point of view. This point of view have gotten her dirty looks from all the Autobots she shared it with, but she noticed that no one actually denied her conclusions.

Overkill sat down at a weathered stone and pulsed her field in welcome.

Ravage was apparently beyond such niceties, "How did it go?"

"It went. I told you, he is going to make up his own mind."

Ravage's field pulsed with unease and dissatisfaction, "Unfortunately, it is often difficult to predict how Prime deals with situations. If he was easier to anticipate, the war would have been much shorter."

And would have ended with a Decepticon victory. All hail the Prime and his twisty mind.

"Which is why I did not make any promises," Overkill leaned closer, "I have delivered everything that was paid for. From here on? It's not my problem."

"I suppose not," Ravage did not look very happy, but that was also not Overkill's problem, "Do you still want into the betting pool?"

"Oh, yes! One hundred on them bonding by the end of solar."

"That is a lot of money on something with such low odds."

Overkill stood up, "Well, it's my money to waste, isn't it? And don't let me hear that you are trying so sabotage it because of this bet."

Ravage snorted, "That's a lot of cynicism out of you. I am not sure if I am appalled or turned on."

Overkill stopped and looked at her before sing-songing in strangely accented English, "Well, Ravage, I never..."

Ravage's field buzzed with irritation, "Don't make promises you do not intend to keep."

Overkill went down to one knee, her fist on the ground. This was as low as she can reach while still retaining some dignity, and he still towered over Ravage by a significant amount, "Really, Ravage," she purred in her lowest register,"You should know by know that I don't promise things I don't mean to carry through."

Ravage gave a full body twitch and sauntered away without even saying goodbye. Rude.

***

Overkill let herself into Prowl's office only to walk into inquisitive glares of one blue visor and... two pairs of blue optics, "I did not expect to see you here, Ultra Magnus. Is there a meeting I am interrupting?"

"No, Tank, you are absolutely not interrupting anything," Jazz was amused, which was worrying.

"No, Overkill, we were actually...waiting for you," Ultra Magnus did not seem very happy to admit that.

Overkill eyed the only empty chair left in the room. She was absolutely the type to plop into one just to irritate Ultra Magnus with her lack of respect for... whatever he had his panels in a twist about this time, but experience with how her mass and furniture interacted has taught her to be extremely suspicious of all furnishings she had to settle that mass on. She sat down very carefully.

"I see you ran your own projections on the current direction of this clusterfuck," Overkill greatly enjoyed some Human turns of phrase.

Ultra Magnus twitched and frowned at her use of profanity, but did not utter a reprimand. He seemed to be studying the surface of the table in front of him with all the attention he could employ in the performance of a task. Overkill looked at the table too. There was nothing on it.

Prowl stirred in his chair, "If you can, perhaps, refrain from irritating everybody and just go along with the report?"

"Well, he likes that idea, anyway. I am not sure how much he is going to let it influence his decision, but it is not a dead end.

Incidentally, I need help coming up with the reason I am helping with this game plan that will satisfy Soundwave's paranoia."

Prowl frowned, "The amount of funds he provided for you cannot be sufficient incentive?"

Overkill gave him a disapproving look, "I was not interested in any bribes before, was I? Why would I suddenly be up for sale?"

Ultra Magnus looked like he swallowed an organic bug, "You can't tell him the truth?"

"Yes, because 'I am tired of my friends being unhappy with this forever war, and I want them to stop being miserable' is going to be any more believable."

"No," Prowl was still frowning, "We will discuss it later..."

"Yes!" Jazz practically vibrating on his chair, "Now tell me, how much did you traumatize Optimus?"

"Jazz!"

"Come on, Ultra Magnus! Prowl would not let me place any recording equipment in the office without Big Guy's knowledge! I would kill to see what his faceplates looked liked when you brought it up!"

"You would also kill for hundreds of other reasons," said Prowl with his usual serenity, "So that is hardy an indication of you dying from unsatisfied curiosity."

"If you realllllly want to see him make a face," Overkill pronounced gleefully, "I can come with you when it's is your turn to put in two credits on this topic, and remind Optimus that I am technically his Fealty Bondsmech, so personal services are kind of part of my duties."

Ultra Magnus made a quickly stifled noise that was attempting to be a moan of mortification. Jazz started laughing so hard he nearly fell of the chair. Prowl hid his amusement behind iron control of his field, and even better mastery of his faceplates, but Overkill knew him well enough to know that he was amused.

It took almost four breems to sober everyone back up to a working mood. Finally Jazz straightened out on his chair, "All right. So, let's proceed in hope that Big Guy agrees with our conclusion on the benefits of this plan. Any ideas on how to handle Ratchet and Ironhide?"


End file.
